Shaggy's Shame and Daphne's Demise
by ScoobyDoosAndDonts
Summary: Watch as your childhood friends slowly fall into a pit of vile obscenity plagued by the thoughts and memories of who they once were. Fred, the leader of the group withers under the light of the corporate world, choosing to substitute bona fide happiness with whatever narcotics he can get his hands on. Shaggy has lost all inhibitions and Daphne has no recollection of choice.


"Jinkies!" Velma cried, as Shaggy embedded his bare fists into Scooby's skull. "Raggy, rhop!" Scooby's tears stained his brown fur black, and his eyes burned a bright red.

"Scooby," Shaggy yelled out continuing to abuse the dog, "I've got a mystery to solve! It's what I should do with this mallet!" He pointed to a splintered and flayed wooden hammer tucked in the corner of the Mystery Machine.

Meanwhile in the front seat, Fred cheered Shaggy on with a crooked smile plastered upon his bony complexion. "Right on, Shaggy. That mutt keeps stealing my snacks." Fred ended, gesturing to the torn open box of narcotics. A cloud of smoke emerged from the confines of Daphne's cheap cigarette.

"Fuck off," Shaggy groaned under his breath, "Let me do what I damn want. I've had to put up with this mutt for YEARS, and yet you expect me to just deal with him? I'm not having it." It was true though. For many years Shaggy had cared for Scooby, as the pair both succumbed to the effects of excessive marijuana use.

"Can you two cut it out? I'm trying to find out where we're going here." Daphne let out. The engines wailed as they turned the corner, forcing everyone to one side. "What did the ad say again?"

"Just said something about a mystery. It wasn't very specific." Shaggy began, sparing Scooby. "All it says is the day and time, it doesn't even list the pay." He ended with a sigh.

"Beggars can't be fucking choosers, mate." Fred shouted in glee. "They'll be enough for us all to enjoy!" His voice rose and morphed into a manic giggle.

The back of the Mystery Machine rocked. It groaned. The backside screeching loudly against the road, almost as if something, or someone, had gotten hold. A deep green was seen through the murky, orange tinted windows of the back doors, effortlessly keeping up with their tricked out vehicle.

"Oh for fuck sake!" Fred wailed in impatience before turning towards Shaggy. "Which loan shark did you fuck with this time, Shaggy?" he ended with a sigh.

"Me? No one really. Maybe Ace." Shaggy replied nonchalantly.

"Ace? Again? Do you not learn, Shaggy?" Fred shouted in more inconvenience than anger.

"Who else? He's reliable and forgets easily." Shaggy spouted the same rehearsed line he always did.

"Yeah, until he's got one of his goons grappled to the back of my fucking van!" Fred exclaimed, darting the vehicle left and right in a vain attempt to unstick whatever was lodged behind.

The bulbous mass slowly advanced to the top of the vehicle, seemingly unfaltered by Fred's attempts to shake them off. Its slimy exterior left a trail along the top of the vehicle, melting through the aluminium foil ceiling. A single eye peered through the skylight.

Fred, without looking, grabbed a nearby broom with one hand while steering with the other. He began to tap on the top of the van in different places, searching for the source of the creature. He was going through the motions at this point.

"Come on then, let's have it!" Fred roared before piercing the roof with the broom, snapping it in the process. An animalistic grunt bellowed through the newly made hole, causing Fred to abruptly steer off to the left.

Shaggy mimicked the beast's growl, Fred's violent steering causing Shaggy to strike the cold, hard hull of their craft. Scooby took this chance, to slink away unnoticed.

"For fucks sake Fred! Why the hell do we always let you drive? It's Daphne rubbing off on you, ain't it?" he blasted at him. "It's not like we can't tell that you're wasted!" He ended.

Fred chuckled. "More like rubbing me off!" Fred muttered with a smutty smile, letting go of the wheel and high fiving himself in the process. "Oh, real funny guy aren't ya?" remarked Daphne, "I've not forgotten our last escapade. All girth and no length, it looked like burnt fucking naan bread!" she chuckled.

This did not please Fred. He began to let out an aggressive grunt, rising in intensity as each of her words made its way to his slow mind. "Coming from you?!" He screamed. "Your minge smells like a fucking harbour!"

In Fred's blind rage he had forgotten the wheel, and the vehicle all together. He bucked around like a drunk gorilla.

Looking up from the crumpled map, Daphne noted the bumbling buffoon pacing angrily about the interior, Scooby panting in fear and Shaggy's gaze eagerly seeking him out.

"How the fuck did I get here.." Daphne muttered with a small shake of her head. "I used to be someone." She ended.

"Speak for yourself!" Shaggy berated. "I had a fucking future, but this asshat picked me up, and now I can't tell left from right. I cut my toe off to pay the last loneshark, and that loan was to 'pay' Fred for 'all he has done for us'."

Daphne ignored Shaggy's plea for help. Seeking some form of escape, her eyes peered out of the windows at the trees rolling past. Suddenly, she realised that the shaky bathtub of a vehicle was making its way into the ditch, following Fred's decision to abandon the wheel.

She darted forward for the wheel but Fred blocked her path.

"We've been through this, skank. I drive." Fred announced calmly before sitting back down in the sticky driver's seat.

Velma's shaky hands desperately tried to align the thin white powder, oblivious to anything going on around her. Every time she managed to procure a small line the van would smack her to either side once more as Fred lost control. Finally she resolved to bury her head in the small ziplock bag. It was a win-win; either end up high from the bootleg coke or from the oxygen withdrawal, each permitted escape.

Shaggy screamed. Fred laughed. This cacophony of pure vitriol was poisoning them, it hovered like chlorine gas, and they couldn't get out.

Following one of Fred's infamous twitches, he promptly tore the steering wheel from its axle. Unbeknownst to him, of course. With extreme concentration he continued rotating the wheel right and left, confused and even angry that the van wouldn't obey.

"Fuck, Fred, the steering wheel!" Daphne cried out in shock.

"I know, I'm pretty good at driving aren't I? The doctor said narcotics impacted performance, but they never said driving would be this easy!" A deranged cackle reminded this gang who was boss.

Fred grinned to himself as the van bolted to the right. "Oh no you don't!" Fred shouted upon realising that the wheel was no longer connected, he promptly threw it behind him in anger, hitting Daphne on the temple, knocking her to the floor.

"Fuck yeah!" Fred announced, pleased with himself. "That bitch was crazy." he ended in a serious tone.

The van leaned onto the muddy ground and Fred was getting both nervous and desperate. As soon as the idea popped into his head, he acted. Shoving his fingers into the harsh metal axle - once restraining the wheel, now himself - Fred forced the joint to the right with a shriek.

The van began to move toward the road and despite the pain, Fred exclaimed "Eureka! I have solved the case!",

Shaggy was a bit more perspective though, as he saw the vehicle still careening off into this watery grave. "Oh fuck, come… come on Fred, hand the wheel to me!".

Shaggy strolled over to Fred, peering at his mangled arm. "Oh I see, this must be the steering wheel!" he concluded. Shifting Fred forward in his seat, Shaggy began to straddle him with his scrawny physique, sitting his bony ass onto Fred's malformed spine.

Shaggy grabbed ahold of Fred's arm and began to pop the joint out of place, in order to allow better rotation. "Finally, I can steer this fucker into the ground!" Shaggy cried out, delusional from the years of neglect and abuse.

"Hey Shaggy, what you doing up here?" Fred asked in innocence. His left hand still revolving around as if still holding a phantom wheel.

"Driving the van. The van." Shaggy groaned under his breath quietly, a small trickle exiting his skinny jeans.

"Shaggy, smells like you're peeing." Fred replied nonchalantly. "My back feels warm." he sighed in bliss.

"Don't worry about that Fred, that happens sometimes." Shaggy replied, sharing a similar glee.

"Mmmm, wow Shaggy. That's impressive…" Fred groaned gently under his breath, releasing his own bowels in unison, before finally passing out from the pain of his mangled arm.

"Aw yeah, a home run." Shaggy said, oblivious to what was happening. Velma's crack sack, dispersing through the air, awoke Daphne from her short 'sleep' with a groan and a rub of her head, leaving her with a sticky red hand.

"It smells like a bakery in here.." Daphne muttered half conscious. Velma suspected that whatever she'd bought wasn't exactly the "real deal", it could've been laced with rat poison and she'd still have snorted it, but she clearly didn't have a clue what she'd bought.

The white cloud twisted and wound like tear gas at a gay parade, it merged with each character's malice and left them with a sour taste on each of their lips as it fell.

Daphne shook Velma, "This is fucking flour, you've bought us flour you tard." she hissed.

Velma remained unconscious.

"Oh no you fucking don't!" Daphne shouted before kicking Velma in the head with her sharp, trashy stilettos. "Wakey wakey bitch," she began, "You don't get to die until you've repaid me for these five pounds of flour you bought on my dime!".

"It's.." Velma began, "The dealer assured me it was crack, he gave me his word."

"Oh great, he gave you his word, if only I'd known sooner!" Daphne remarked with a cold hiss. "This must be crack then, surely!" Daphne's anger grew as she picked up a handful of the white flour and thrusted it into Velma's face. "Does this smell like crack to you, bitch?" Daphne questioned, "Does it?" she shouted.

"Fucking hell fine!" Velma screeched in kin. "It's flour, okay? It's fucking flour. I bought it from a supermarket. I didn't think you'd fucking realise after all the other shit you were jacked up on." Velma admitted without remorse.

"That's what I thought." Daphne lied, she just wanted to extort Velma out of the money she'd spent on the crack. "Don't ever try that with me again, you're lucky I'm a good person or you wouldn't be breathing anymore.".

"You've never realised before.." Velma muttered, unnoticed.

Daphne strolled over to her previous seat, picked up her map and began to peer at it vigorously, pretending she could read. "Ah yes, here we are." She announced. "Fred, we're here." She exclaimed, darting her eyes towards the driver's seat.

Without a single word exchanged, Shaggy began to steer the beast towards the road's opening, twisting Fred's mangled arm in the process.

The cracked tarmac road split off towards a large corporate building stretching multiple stories into the sky, each coated in a different dull shade of grey which extinguished any opposing colours. A pale yellow light emanated from within, morphing the building into one huge street light which drew the Mystery Machine in absentmindedly.

Shaggy's eyes were fused shut from the dough congealing across his face. Though, he had cast aside the need for sight for a quick thrill and gamble.

"Ooh, left or right huh? Maybe we should take a vote!" Shaggy promptly raised his left hand, Daphne did try and give a voice, but Shaggy had already careened the vehicle off left towards the corporate parking lot following his one man vote.

"Shaggy!" She beckoned with all the rage that someone with a head wound could muster, "Why the fuck don't you ever bloody listen to me?!" A bloodied mouth launched red-stained spit right onto his green shirt.

Shaggy was stunned. No one had the nerve to talk like this to him or Fred before, especially since he had just became the de-facto leader of the bunch. Ignoring the 'wheel' he dragged his carcass back off of Fred's unconscious body.

"Velma," He said, "I'll just pretend you never said anything, and perhaps we'll all come out of this alive, alright?" The vehicle swerved down the centre of the road.

"I am not FUCKING Velma!" She screeched. "Oh no, you better not be doing this with me!" With one hand she clutched his greased chin and malformed expression, and with the other scratched her bleached nails into his back like the primate she was.

Shaggy began to hurl abuse towards Daphne, oblivious to Fred's opening eyes which peered with a newfound anger at his insolence. The possibility of a mutiny lit up his cold heart, and with all the strength he could still muster, Fred hauled his unyielding corpse to a standing position before grabbing hold of the burning light bulb above and implanting it in the back of Shaggy's neck with a sizzle.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Some sort of fucking leader?" Fred twisted the bulb as Shaggy's neck fried up; the smell of bacon filled Shaggy's nose. "I am the bourgeoisie, you are my workers. Look upon my works ye mighty and despair." he exclaimed, gesturing towards the hunk of fried flesh dripping from Shaggy's neck, pivoting from wet to dry with each second.

"Oh fuck, who's cookin' the grub?" Shaggy said, oblivious to Fred's statement. It took him a couple of seconds before finding the source of the smell, his charred and blackened neck. With a hearty wince he scraped the flaky snack off, and felt it slowly melt between his fingers and solidify under his nails. His eyes were wide and his stomach bottomless.

"There's no time like the present! Bottoms up bitch!" Shaggy screamed, dumping his charred flesh into his mouth. "The recycle man is here!".

"What the fuck, Shaggy?" Fred smacked the flesh out of his hand before he could take another bite. "You're actually eating yourself, Shaggy, what the fuck?" Fred sputtered whilst taking a fearful step backwards.

Shaggy's eyes lit up with a new found desire, his mouth turned a crooked oval before lurching forward and pinning Fred to the ground, shifting his groin to be hugging Fred's right thigh.

"Yeah, think you're so cool huh, Freddie boy? Get a load of this then!" Shaggy's voice wasn't exactly clear anymore, it blended in with the ragged tearing of his shirt as he bit through the loose fabric. "It's so good Fred, you have to try it!" Shaggy pleaded in desperation, loosening a chunk from behind his neck.

"Shaggy, you don't have to do this!" Fred said, with surprising clarity. "We used to be friends, Shaggy! We used to be friends!" Fred cried out in desperation while Shaggy pried his jaw apart and shoved a putrid lump within.

Seconds passed, minutes even. Fred was in shock, his senses were so numb he couldn't even taste what squatted on his tongue, yet. Suddenly he felt it, the sticky, slimy residue left Fred more confused than disgusted. It sizzled and evaporated on his tongue, producing a vile gas which almost suffocated him.

"This.." Fred began, his voice rising. "This is fucking sweaty dough, Shaggy!" He bellowed, spitting out the lump. "This is not your flesh, this is barely cooked dough from Velma's budget crack sack!"


End file.
